DAILY PHOTO: Baba & Nyonya Heritage Museum (or Crazy Rich Asians — 19th Century)
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As a fond mother, when the day is o'er,
Leads by the hand her little child to bed,
Half willing, half reluctant to be led,
And leave his broken playthings on the floor,
Still gazing at them through the open door,
Nor wholly reassured and comforted
By promises of others in their stead,
Which, though more splendid, may not
please him more;
So Nature deals with us, and takes away
Our playthings one by one, and by the hand
Leads us to rest so gently, that we go
Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,
Being too full of sleep to understand
How far the unknown transcends the
what we know.

branches: bloom-laden
but devoid of leaves:
tropic confusion.



People ask for the road to Cold Mountain,
but no road reaches Cold Mountain.
Summer sky -- still ice won't melt.
The sun comes out but gets obscured by mist.
Imitating me, where does that get you?
My mind isn't like yours.
When your mind is like mine
You can enter here.
Translated by Kazuaki Tanahashi & David Schneider in Essential Zen (1994) SanFransisco: HarperCollins, p. 2

winding like vines,
tree branches grow like a cage
over my head.



This is the debt I pay
Just for one riotous day,
Years of regret and grief,
Sorrow without relief.
Pay it I will to the end --
Until the grave, my friend,
Gives me a true release --
Gives me the clasp of peace.
Slight was the thing I bought,
Small was the debt I thought,
Poor was the loan at best --
God! but the interest!